


Some of the Time and All of the Time

by finefeatheredfriend



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur being cute, Cute, Drabble, Fluff, I wrote this for me but y'all can read it, Reader wants everyone to like them, because that's the way it is sometimes, but not everyone does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22782196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finefeatheredfriend/pseuds/finefeatheredfriend
Summary: You want everyone to like you, but find that, despite your efforts, not everyone does. Arthur decides to take you into town to distract you from your troubles and make you feel better.*gender neutral reader*
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Gender Neutral Reader, Arthur Morgan/Reader, Arthur Morgan/You
Kudos: 59





	Some of the Time and All of the Time

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy all, I've really been enjoying writing Reader/Arthur fics here lately. If you have an idea for one you'd like written, hit me up on tumblr @finefeatheredgamer :)

You were at the edge of the camp, nursing both your pride and your bloody, swollen lip. Hearing footsteps, you tipped your head to the side and addressed the intruder.

“I'm not looking for company.”

“Well,” Arthur drawled, stepping up next to you and jamming his thumbs in his suspenders, “that's too bad, ain't it, cuz here I am.” You looked over at him with an expression of bemused irritation, knowing he wasn't going to leave you be.

“Couldn't stand to look at any of them. If they weren't disagreeing with me, then they sure as shit weren't coming to my defense, either.” Arthur scowled and fished a cigarette paper out of one of his pockets, pouring dried tobacco into it and rolling it meticulously before setting it on his bottom lip, giving you a thoughtful look before he struck a match up the side of his jeans to light it.

“Look, now, you can't make everyone like you, Y/N, you know that.”

“I'm not trying to get everyone to like me!” you snapped, your voice loud enough that the calm sound of camp chatter lulled momentarily and you could feel distant eyes on your back. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and lowered your voice. “I'm not trying to get everyone to like me, Arthur,” you repeated, but the sadness of your tone and the insistence with which this was said made him eye you with a small look of knowing amusement.

“Yes, you is. I've seen that look in your eye, the disappointment when somebody disagrees wit'chu, when somebody gets a little nasty with you. It hurts, don't it?” Arthur asked you softly, and you weren't sure if he was referencing what he had just said, or your swollen lip.

“It's fine,” you insisted, but your voice faltered. He reached out and took your chin in his big hand, the flesh smelling like peppermints, tobacco and gunpowder, making you wrinkle your nose slightly. He tipped your head so that you were forced to look at him and he met your eyes before his gaze flickered to the injury to your lip. He ran the calloused pad of his thumb along your lower lip and you winced. His thumb tip came away red, stained with a bit of your blood, but he didn't seem to notice.

“I reckon you can please everybody some of the time, and you can please some folks a lot of the time, but you can't please everybody all the time. Just the way life is, unfortunately. I know you want to get along with everyone, but,” he chuckled, “we ain't all the most agreeable bunch. You gotta let it slide off your back. If someone's gettin' nasty with you, you're either gonna hafta ignore it, or you're gonna hafta start a fight.”

“I did that well enough,” you mumbled, tugging your face from his grip and sucking on your bottom lip for a moment, worrying the torn flesh there with your teeth, hating how the altercation had made you feel.

“Well, you're hardly the first person Karen's slapped, Y/N. Frankly, I'm surprised this is the first time it happened to ya. You've been with us, what? Six months now?”

“About that, yeah,” you agreed, eyeing him.

“Tell you what, how about you ride with me into town and we have ourselves a drink, let you cool your head, get away from everybody,” he suggested.

“That won't get me away from you,” you blurted and Arthur's eyebrows shot up. The hurt look that crossed his expression reminded you of a kicked puppy and you immediately regretted your misdirected anger, so you backpedaled quickly. “Not that I'd want to,” you added and his expression went a little dazed at that. “I could rent us a couple of rooms if you'd be interested in getting away from here for more than the evening,” you suggested as casually as you could. Sure, you wanted everyone to like you, but in particular, you wanted Arthur to like you. _Really_ like you.

Arthur stared at you for a moment, a little pinched line appearing between his brows as though he wasn't quite sure of your intentions, but after a moment he shrugged.

“Reckon I can spare an evening. Oughta be fun, just you and me,” he smiled and your heart soared.

The two of you rode into town and you were amused when Arthur insisted that you stable your horses before anything else, giving them time to relax just as much as the two of you were. The big softie never would tolerate mistreatment or neglect of animals, especially horses. It was one of the things you liked about him.

You bought both of you a whiskey, watching as Arthur sipped at his, where you had just thrown yours back and swallowed it with a dull hiss of breath at the burn. He watched you, fingers caressing the rim of his glass and you ordered another, pacing yourself this time. He chatted congenially with you about innocuous topics, but when the topic of voting came up and he gave his rather apathetic viewpoint about it, you found yourself growing distressed, wanting to argue, wanting to persuade him to rethink. His demeanor changed and you felt that gut-deep feeling of misery, knowing that you would either have to walk away from a topic you cared about deeply, or you would have to argue with someone you admired. You swallowed, trying to clear the thick sensation in your chest, like someone was stepping on you.

“You alright, Y/N?” he asked you gently, brows furrowing.

“It's just...look, I don't wanna agree to disagree. But I also don't want you to not like me.”

“Not like you?” he asked, incredulous. “Well, why on Earth wouldn't I like you? Who gives a damn if we disagree about somethin', or if we argue about it? Way I see it, only a fool would lose a friend over an opinion. Come on now, why don't you tell me all about why votin's important, I'll give you a listen and we'll see if we can't both tolerate the other's company when we're finished?” he suggested, eyes twinkling with mirth and friendliness.

You said your piece, grateful that he sat and listened quietly, though you were distracted when you saw how his gaze occasionally darted to your lips, watching them as you spoke before he seemed to catch himself and looked back into your eyes instead.

“Well now,” he said when you had finished. “I reckon you made some pretty good points there, Y/N. But I still ain't gonna vote,” he told you with honesty. You opened your mouth to argue again and he chuckled. “I's just jokin', Y/N. I'll think about it. Really. You may be right. Maybe one vote could make a diff'rence. But anyway. How about we get some dinner to soak up some of this sauce, huh? You're goin' a bit red in the cheeks, partner.” Arthur looked at you affectionately, as though he thought it was cute that you were both a little buzzed and a little embarrassed. Despite your anxiety about arguing, and despite the fact that you were terrified of making an ass out of yourself even more than you felt you already had, you agreed to dinner and the two of you sat at a table, continuing your merriment from the bar. When at last the sun had set and it was time to go to bed, the two of you stepped upstairs, him walking you to your room.

“Well,” you began, “goodnigh-” You were cut off by his lips pressing firmly into yours, still a bit sore from Karen's slap earlier, and you winced with both surprise and pain. Like a scalded cat, Arthur flinched backwards, stumbling.

“S-sorry,” he muttered, starting to walk away, but you stopped him with a hand on his upper arm. He looked back at you hesitantly, face unsure, but you'd never been more certain of anything in your life.

“You're right,” you said in a quiet voice, stepping closer to him, your hand taking one of his, “I can't please everybody all the time. But...if you wanna come into my room, I reckon I could please you just fine.”

The two of you entered the quiet room and he took you into his arms, kissing you madly, his hands coursing over your body, and for the next several hours, you found you didn't care what anyone else thought of you.

Arthur liked you, and that was all that mattered.


End file.
